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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23419354">Whichever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HashtagLEH/pseuds/HashtagLEH'>HashtagLEH</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drunk Tony Stark, Gay Steve Rogers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Abuse, Pre-Relationship, Protective Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Has Issues, Trigger warnings inside, Uber, Uber Driver Steve Rogers, mentioned Bucky/Natasha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:19:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23419354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HashtagLEH/pseuds/HashtagLEH</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He had barely parked when there was a knock on the window on the passenger side door. He prepared to plaster on his “customer service smile”, but when his eyes fell on the person outside he forgot all about that – as well as how to breathe. </p><p>The man was gorgeous. Tousled brown hair that looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, wide brown Bambi eyes topped with thick brown eyebrows. Warm toned skin and bitten looking lips, full and chapped red with the cold. It took a moment for him to get his wits about him enough to think to roll down the window, but the young man didn’t look impatient.</p><p>This must be Tony, he realized. Inanely, he suddenly worried about whether he’d remembered to put on deodorant this morning.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Whichever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! I started this fic back in December and then got so busy I only just was able to finish it. Hope you guys like it!</p><p>Warnings in end notes to avoid spoilers</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve gave the woman a smile as she exited his car, not surprised in the least when she didn’t notice how fake it was. She hadn’t noticed over the previous twenty minutes while riding in the back of the car – why should it be any different now, as she finally left?</p><p>He sighed as she closed the door, taking a moment to himself before he would pick up someone else. It wasn’t her fault exactly, but he was used to the endless barrage of flirting from men and women alike ever since he had gone on a new health regimen in college that had helped him to fill out into the body he had now. But after being small, skinny, and sickly for most of his life, it wasn’t as flattering as one would think for people to turn their heads on the street and give him their numbers or even ask him for <em>his </em>number (those were the especially bold ones) when five years ago they wouldn’t have given him the time of day.</p><p>Bucky kept telling him that he should take advantage of the interest, because Steve hadn’t been on a date in months and gotten laid in even longer, and this was, in Bucky’s words, “terribly tragic”. But Bucky had been his best friend since kindergarten, so he knew and understood Steve’s point of view, at least. It didn’t stop the playful ribbing, though.</p><p>It’s a shame Bucky was straight, Steve mused absently to himself. It could just be him and Bucky, then.</p><p>No, he immediately stopped that thought in its tracks when he realized where his thoughts had gone. He’d had a small crush on his best friend all through high school, but it had (obviously) never gone anywhere. Bucky had then met Natasha their sophomore year of college, and Steve had dated a guy named Brock (which he would prefer to forget about completely) and while <em>his</em> dating life had tanked, Bucky had scored with Natasha and they were even now going strong.</p><p>And Steve honestly <em>was</em> happy for them. He didn’t even <em>really</em> want to date Bucky anymore – his crush had well and truly passed.</p><p>What he <em>did</em> wish for was a relationship like the one his best friend had found. And all these people flirting with him? Well, it was hard to be genuine with them or even believe that <em>they</em> were genuine when he looked like this.</p><p>(Sometimes he really hated this body.)</p><p><em>Stop it with the self-pity, Rogers,</em> he scolded himself mentally, straightening up in his seat and pulling out his phone. He could make a few more stops tonight before turning in – he was <em>not </em>going to turn the evening into a waste with his pity.</p><p>He pulled up his Uber app, looking for someone who needed to be picked up around where he was at. There were only a couple, so he picked the one with a higher pay.</p><p>Tony, he saw. It would probably be about thirty minutes, considering the traffic that evening. Honestly he didn’t know why this Tony didn’t just walk with the short distance he needed to go – at least by comparison with the traffic.  He’d probably get there faster by walking.</p><p>Whatever, he thought to himself, shifting the car into drive to make his way around the corner.</p><p>He had barely parked when there was a knock on the window on the passenger side door. He prepared to plaster on his “customer service smile”, but when his eyes fell on the person outside he forgot all about that – as well as how to breathe.</p><p>The man was gorgeous. Tousled brown hair that looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, wide brown Bambi eyes topped with thick brown eyebrows. Warm toned skin and bitten looking lips, full and chapped red with the cold. It took a moment for him to get his wits about him enough to think to roll down the window, but the young man didn’t look impatient.</p><p>This must be Tony, he realized. Inanely, he suddenly worried about whether he’d remembered to put on deodorant this morning.</p><p>“Steve?” Tony checked, and Steve nodded dumbly. Though Tony’s voice was scratchy like he’d been crying, his face otherwise showed no evidence of it.</p><p>Tony gave him a slightly weirded out look, but otherwise didn’t react to Steve’s odd behavior. Instead, he moved to the car’s back door, opening it and sliding into the seat. As soon as the door was closed, he was practically collapsed against it, heaving out a world-weary sigh.</p><p>Shaking himself from his temporary insanity, Steve scolded himself for his complete lack of thought. He had seen enough looks directed his own way by people struck dumb by his own appearance to know how stupid he had looked just then.</p><p>Besides his own embarrassment though, he felt bad because with looks like that, Tony certainly got stares often enough. Steve knew what that felt like, and he felt bad for adding to that.</p><p>Not too late to change his first impression, he reminded himself, remembering his Ma’s somewhat-wise words that had been oft repeated while he’d been growing up. Bucky’s first impression of him had been <em>terrible</em>, and look where they were now.</p><p>“Hey,” Steve said, attempting to make conversation. Sure, a lot of people who used Uber preferred a quiet drive, but Steve was particularly talented at sticking his foot in it, and he’d already weirded out this (ridiculously, distractingly attractive) young man. “Rough day?”</p><p>“You could say that,” Tony grumbled, not opening his eyes to even look at him.</p><p>Steve was not discouraged though, because he wanted to get this guy talking. “Wanna talk about it?”</p><p>“And what are <em>you</em> going to do about it, Steve?” Tony snarked, but he didn’t actually sound upset. Mostly tired was all.</p><p>“Nothing, really,” Steve admitted. “But my Ma always said not to keep things bottled up or it’ll go bad and explode under the pressure.”</p><p>Tony snorted and opened his eyes just to give him a dry look that Steve could only see in the rearview mirror.</p><p>“Don’t think that’s how science works,” he said.</p><p>Steve hummed. “Maybe not, but it’s how humans work.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t that be something?” Tony mused. “Spontaneous human combustion. Could totally happen. Heard it happened to some guy in Tennessee, but no telling how factual that is.”</p><p>“It’s probably because he didn’t tell his Uber driver why his day sucked so badly,” Steve teased.</p><p>Tony raised an eyebrow but didn’t sit up. “My parents both died in a car crash last night. I got horrifically drunk for several hours and have been dealing with the subsequent hangover all day long. Turns out continuing to drink the alcohol through the day just makes it worse. But at least it wiped everything away for a bit, you know? I am all alone because I have no extended family, and my best friend Rhodey is in D.C. with his family for the holidays. You, Mr. Steve, are taking me to my favorite bar, where I will again get appallingly drunk because I ran out of the rest of the alcohol in my apartment and am now forced to get out. Did I share enough with you there, Mr. Steve, or did you want to hear the entire background of my fucked up childhood and how because of it I’m actually glad that my old man bit it?”</p><p>“Just Steve is fine,” Steve said mildly, though his heart ached for Tony and what he was going through right then. (He’d always been an empathetic person.) He also knew though (because he’d been there) that Tony was looking for a fight – there was that familiar glint of challenge in his eyes that had been in Steve’s for most of his life. And offering useless apologies and platitudes would be – well, useless. It would incite a fight quicker than anything, and contrary to popular belief – or Bucky’s – he did not actually go around <em>looking </em>for someone to fight.</p><p>So he simply said, “That’s pretty shitty, man. Yesterday was actually the two-year anniversary since my ma passed, and I don’t care what anyone else says. It never gets any easier.”</p><p>Like magic, Tony seemed to deflate at that, calming a bit from the fight he’d been gearing up for. In a small voice that didn’t seem to suit him, he said, “She was the only one who was ever on my side. And now, because Howard was a <em>fucking drunk</em>, he threw their car into a tree.” He snorted. “Ironic, right? He kills them both because he was drinking, and here I am, shitfaced for more than a day and about to get <em>more </em>shitfaced.” He snapped and pointed at Steve. “And that’s why <em>I’m </em>being responsible and taking an <em>Uber</em>.” He snorted disparagingly at himself. “Not like that’s any fucking <em>better</em>.”</p><p>He muttered the last to himself, but Steve still heard it anyway, because he now realized that Tony was just on the other side of tipsy and probably thought he was being quieter than he actually was. It was pretty easy to hear him, though.</p><p>“I think it’s a pretty normal response,” Steve disagreed with Tony’s last comment. “I don’t really drink, but I got just about as ‘shitfaced’ when my ma died, and on the first anniversary.”</p><p>“How do you function today?” Tony said incredulously, lifting his head to stare at him in the rearview mirror. “Even if I <em>hadn’t </em>been drinking most of today, <em>guaranteed </em>I would still be hungover right now.”</p><p>Steve quirked his lips and shook his head, braking gently as they came to a stoplight. “I didn’t get drunk yesterday,” he said. “My best friend and his girlfriend were there to keep me distracted so I didn’t need to.”</p><p>Tony dropped his head back onto the seat with a soft <em>thud</em>, and then winced at the jarring movement. “Well, I am going to just get drunk for the rest of my life,” he declared. “I am never going to be sober again.”</p><p>Steve frowned, even though he knew it was (probably) just the alcohol talking. “That sounds like a pretty shitty way to live,” he said in what he hoped was a nonconfrontational tone.</p><p>Either Tony didn’t notice or he didn’t care about the tone. “Meh,” he said dismissively. “I’m now rich enough that it doesn’t really matter. People will expect it now.”</p><p>Steve blinked in confusion at that, that people would expect this young man to be an alcoholic, but then he brushed it aside because that was probably just the alcohol talking.</p><p>“It seems to me that you just want someone to talk to,” he told the man in the backseat as the light turned green for him to go.</p><p>“Oh yeah, all that ‘bottling stuff up’ that you were going on about,” Tony said, complete with air quotes. “I’ll find a therapist. Maybe. I might be too busy getting drunk to have time to schedule shit like that. Or, hey! I can just hire you to be my round-the-clock driver, and I’ll talk to <em>you </em>while you take me to the bars. How does a six-figure salary sound?”</p><p>“I think it sounds like you are <em>very </em>drunk, and you need to sober up before you start making any huge decisions,” Steve said. Tony scrunched his nose (<em>that is <strong>not </strong>adorable</em>, Steve reminded himself) and blew a raspberry at him. An idea came to Steve then, and he said, “And you’re going to this bar, where I am then going to drive off and you’ll never see me again, because all you know about me is my first name and the car I drive.”</p><p>“Your last name also starts with ‘R’,” Tony piped in as reminder.</p><p>Steve shook his head, <strike>fondly</strike> exasperated with his <strike>adorable</strike> passenger. “Okay, that too. Point is, I have to finish this trip, and then you won’t be able to see me again. How would you hire me to be your driver if you’re going to go get so smashingly drunk that you don’t even remember today?”</p><p>Tony opened his mouth, paused, and then closed it with a frown, his eyebrows scrunching down as his brain fought to think through the presented problem.</p><p>“Here!” Tony exclaimed, reaching into a pocket in his pants and pulling out what looked like a very crumpled business card. “You can call me tomorrow when I wake up!”</p><p>Steve chuckled and shook his head, not taking the card that Tony tried to thrust at him. “You’re going to think I’m a crazy person tomorrow, calling you out of the blue.”</p><p>“Nah, I’ll just think I slept with you one time,” Tony said. “You’re totally hot enough that I would believe it, too.”</p><p>For some reason, the outright comment rather than the normal flirting that he was used to from others made him blush. It didn’t mean anything, he reminded himself. Tony was just drunk. And drunk people always thought the person in front of them was ten times more attractive than they actually were.</p><p>“Aww!” Tony cooed, clapping his hands in delight. “You blushed! What’s wrong? Not used to compliments? I wouldn’t believe <em>that</em> in a second.”</p><p>“You are very drunk right now,” Steve said, part in reminder to Tony but mostly as a reminder to himself. Tony was attractive, yes, but nothing would be happening with him drunk and about to get even more sloshed. Steve wasn’t the kind of guy to take advantage of any of that – let alone Tony’s emotional state after his parents just died.</p><p>“I know!” Tony exclaimed in response. “That’s why I ordered an Uber, Mr. Uber Man Steve. Because I’m responsible like that. Not like dear ol’ dad.” The last bit was muttered to himself, but again Steve still heard it, because Tony wasn’t actually as quiet as he probably thought he was being right then.</p><p>“Anyway, I would still totally hire you to be my driver,” Tony continued, and Steve was a little surprised that Tony remembered that part for how much alcohol must be in his system right then. “Slash therapist. Is it unethical to sleep with your employee?”</p><p>Steve snorted out loud. “Yes. But if you’re going to hire me, it’s right now, and not tomorrow once you’ve woken up, and as your driver, it is my job to make sure you get safely into bed. If you’re expecting to sleep with me, I ought to be taking you to a bed. Either way, you’re going to bed. So are we going to my place or yours?”</p><p>Tony stared at him, blinking in shock like that is not at all what he expected to hear. Steve met his eyes through the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow and remaining carefully expectant, no other emotion to influence Tony’s decision.</p><p>Slowly, Tony grinned. Something was off about it, something that Steve couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he didn’t worry about it right then.</p><p>“Alright then, Steve,” Tony said, looking pleased with himself and even a little triumphant.  “Let’s go to yours, then.”</p><p>***</p><p>Tony woke up with the light streaming through the window and directly into his eyes. Grumbling under his breath, he thought mentally that JARVIS must be messing with him and playing dumb about keeping his room dark when Tony was hungover. JARVIS was a <em>learning </em>AI and he should know better by now.</p><p>“Windows, J,” he called, scrunching his eyes and throwing an arm over his face to try to block out the light.</p><p>There was no response, but Tony became suddenly aware that it was a lot noisier than he was used to in his penthouse. He wasn’t used to the New York sounds being so <em>loud</em>, like it was right outside his window rather than ninety stories below.</p><p>Also, it smelled different. Rather than the stale air of a suite not often frequented, it smelled like men’s body wash and a little bit of sweat. Not a bad smell, but definitely not his.</p><p>Eyes flying open, Tony fought through the hangover headache to take stock of his surroundings. He was in a king size bed in a decent-sized room (at least for New York City) that was painted in shades of blue. The bedroom door was open, but it looked like it was either in an alcove or at the end of a hall, because Tony could only see a light grey wall out the door. Light was coming through the blinds of the window beside the bed, and there was a door on the other side of the bed that looked like it probably led to the bathroom. The closet was at the foot of the bed, with those folding doors that let you see the rack of clothes when it was opened, and he could see a lot of shirts hanging to one side while a slightly lesser amount of pants took over the other side.</p><p>Oh, and there was someone in the bed with him.</p><p>Tony blinked at the man, who was somehow still asleep through not only the sunlight coming into the room but Tony’s voice and movements. His face was smooshed into the pillow so that Tony could only see half of it from his spot next to him, but what he could see was very attractive. Even complexion, long eyelashes, enough muscles to make one weep, and a sweep of blond hair that was either mussed with sleep or other activities from the night previous.</p><p>Tony took stock of himself and decided, no, they hadn’t slept together, because not only was he wearing his underwear, but he was wearing the shirt he’d been wearing the day before and a pair of sweatpants that he <em>knew </em>weren’t his, if for nothing else than because they were three sizes too big.</p><p>He got up carefully from the bed, trying not to wake his companion, and tiptoed to what he was relieved to discover indeed was the bathroom. While he pissed, he searched his memories of the night before. A few memories returned to him, thankfully, and he realized that this was his Uber driver from the night before. Shawn? He couldn’t remember the guy’s name, but he <em>did </em>remember that he was supposed to have been taken to a bar, and <em>not</em> to what must be his driver’s apartment.</p><p>Awfully odd kidnapping strategy, he thought as he pulled his pants back up and flushed the toilet. Probably wasn’t a kidnapping then, so he could rule that one out. They clearly hadn’t had sex, as the clothes and the lack of random bodily pains that usually came with such activities could attest. So why was he here? He had a vague memory of trying to hire someone – probably Mr. Uber Driver out there – but he couldn’t remember what for. Oh God, he hadn’t thought that guy was a hooker, had he? That would be mortifying, but it would serve him right for going around with lips like that. Certainly he wasn’t the first one to have thought it. If that had indeed been the case anyway, which he was holding out hope that it wasn’t.</p><p>Walking back out of the bathroom, he attempted to be quiet so he wouldn’t wake the guy, but when he rested his eyes back on the bed, he discovered that it was completely unnecessary, because the guy was awake and blinking at him.</p><p>(He was even more attractive now that Tony was seeing more than just the left half of his face, but he tried not to dwell on that. He also didn’t dwell on the muscles that he could see even better now, because <em>God </em>he just wanted to lick those pectorals.)</p><p>“Steve?” Tony hazarded a guess at the guy’s name, because that one felt familiar.</p><p>The blond smirked a little. “Honestly, I’m kinda surprised you remember after last night.”</p><p>Tony groaned and threw himself onto the bed, wincing at the sharp spike of pain that went through his head at the motion. “I apologize for anything I said or did while drunk. Unless it’s not on record anywhere, in which case I propose that it was all in <em>your</em> imagination.”</p><p>Steve hummed, and Tony felt the bed move as he shifted. “You weren’t as bad as you think you were,” he told him. “Rambled a bit, but after laying down you were out like a light.”</p><p>“Sorry to disappoint,” Tony said wryly. “I promise I’m normally a very attentive bedmate. Falling to sleep was not on the agenda.”</p><p>It was quiet for just long enough for Tony to think he’d thrown Steve with that comment, and removed his arm from his eyes to squint at the blond in question, who was sitting up now and looking down at him. The blankets were pooled around his waist, and unfortunately he was wearing a shirt that he was certain covered an impeccable torso, but he could at least ogle the biceps on display. (They were very nice biceps.)</p><p>“I didn’t take you here for sex, Tony,” Steve told him, something slightly disturbed in his eyes but that Tony didn’t have the mental fortitude to try and decipher. “You were drunk and not able to consent. I took you here to sleep and hopefully sober up.”</p><p>Tony raised an eyebrow at the comment, because that was so wholesome that he was pretty sure it was fake. “Please – everyone knows I’m a slut. I may not remember a lot of what I said last night, but guaranteed I came onto you. Even drunk, I know hot when I see it.”</p><p>He smirked, but Steve frowned at him. “Flirting while drunk does not equate consent,” he said. “And contrary to what you may think, not everyone knows you. Even if they did, lack of denial does not mean consent.”</p><p>Tony blinked at him, because that sounded like something people just said but didn’t really believe. In Tony’s experience, that ideology just wasn’t real. He knew now that Ty had been an abusive shit, but that wasn’t because he’d had sex with him when he was drunk or unconscious (which he did), but because he’d smacked him around. The idea that Steve would just…not have sex with him just because he was passed out seemed very foreign.</p><p>Tony waved that away for now though, because it wasn’t really important <em>why </em>Steve hadn’t slept with him the night before. He clearly wasn’t straight or he would’ve said so, so that wasn’t it.</p><p>Suddenly he remembered something else Steve had thrown into his last statement, and – “You don’t know who I am?” He frowned in confusion.</p><p>“Sure,” Steve said easily. “You’re Tony, my Uber passenger last night, who for some reason offered me a six figure salary to be your driver-slash-therapist, despite the fact that you were on your way to a bar with cheap beer and sticky tables… not exactly the type of place a rich person would go to.”</p><p>“Hey, I may be rich, but Morita’s is the best bar for getting drunk, regardless of quality of service,” Tony defended, but Steve only raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed and clearly disbelieving.</p><p>And Tony was about to continue trying to convince Steve of his financial situation, that he really was as rich as he said he was, when his hungover brain finally pulled through and reminded him that this guy didn’t know who he was, and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Rhodey was the only one who had never really cared about his family name or the money attached. But everyone he’d ever met had known who he was – especially at MIT, where he was known at least as the genius kid with the rich father. People had always tried to take advantage of him, or use him only for his money and/or his notoriety.</p><p>And maybe it was a rushed, foolish idea to keep this a secret from Steve, but suddenly Steve was a much more attractive idea than he’d been a moment ago, because maybe with Steve he could just be <em>Tony</em>, not Tony <em>Stark</em>.</p><p>It was an attractive idea, and without further pondering, he decided to go through with it. Maybe one day Steve would find out and be just as greedy as everyone else, but until then, Tony could be a recent graduate with dead parents, and nothing more.</p><p>His time thinking had clearly been longer than he had thought, because when Tony blinked back to the present, Steve was climbing out of bed, going to the door that led out of the room.</p><p>“Where are you going?” Tony asked, suddenly – embarrassingly – clingy. He schooled his face quickly to nothing more than curiosity as Steve turned to look at him, hiding the look of loneliness that must have been there a moment before.</p><p>“Figured I’d make breakfast,” Steve said simply. “It’ll help with your hangover. You like eggs?”</p><p>“Sure,” Tony said dumbly, and scrambled up a moment later to follow after him as he went to the small kitchen down the hall. “Can I help with anything?”</p><p>Steve looked at him, clearly trying to hide a doubtful look, but Tony was feeling more awake now and noticed it anyway.</p><p>“Do you know how to cook?” he asked.</p><p>“I can make a <em>great </em>cup of coffee,” Tony bargained, making an ‘okay’ sign with his fingers.</p><p>Steve chuckled a bit, nodding to the coffeemaker in the corner of the counter. “Have at it,” he invited.</p><p>It was once the coffee began to drip into the pot and the smell of scrambled eggs began to permeate the apartment that Tony finally said, “So, you’re treating me to breakfast after letting me crash at your place for the night, taking great care to make sure my virtue remained intact. Are you some kind of Prince Charming in disguise?”</p><p>Tony was fascinated to see the flush that spread across Steve’s cheeks at the comment, but to his credit, he rejoindered with, “That wouldn’t be a very good disguise. And I don’t think you’re the damsel in distress type, really.”</p><p>Tony hummed at the response, pleased with the other man’s characterization and honestly agreeing. He’d never been one to call for help from anyone else, even – maybe especially – when he genuinely needed it.</p><p>“Still,” he said, “There must be some way that I can show you my appreciation.”</p><p>Steve smiled a bit in amusement, but wisely didn’t argue, seeming to sense that Tony was going somewhere with his line of thought. “What’d you have in mind?” he asked, poking at the eggs in the pan with a spatula.</p><p>Tony smiled, smugly pleased, and said quickly before he could lose his nerve, “How about I take you to dinner? My treat.”</p><p>“Just dinner?” Steve sent a teasing little smile Tony’s way, half-turning in Tony’s direction. Tony mentally fist-bumped himself – that was definitely interest. Steve was interested, even after seeing Tony no doubt falling apart the night before. This just might work.</p><p>“I could be convinced to dessert after,” Tony allowed, pretending to think about it, tapping his bottom lip in thought. “Or coffee. Whichever.”</p><p>Steve’s smile grew into one that looked happier now more than teasing, and turned back to the eggs, like it was all nothing more than casual suggestions, when they both know that it was in fact much more than that.</p><p>“Alright,” he agreed. “Whichever.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: Past abuse, sexual and physical, is strongly implied to Tony by means of Tiberius Stone. It also makes him think that sex while he's unconscious is okay, which Steve tells him amounts to rape. A little bit of discussion follows, which isn't really resolved completely before Tony brushes it aside. Be careful with yourselves!</p><p>Hope you all liked it - let me know! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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